


Pieces of Yourself

by iwantcandy2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Dream Bubbles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantcandy2/pseuds/iwantcandy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mituna knows what it's like to wake up different.  So when he finds a newly blind Sollux going through the same thing, how can he resist the chance to comfort his dancestor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letmetellyousomething](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyousomething/gifts).



> Mituna Captor/Sollux Captor  
> For the prompt:  
> Mituna Captor, Sollux Captor, Sollux's Lusus  
> Summary:  
> Mituna and a blind Sollux meet in the dream bubbles. Some hurt/comfort would be nice in that scenario, although I can't imagine them getting too sentimental from the outset.
> 
> I decided to interpret the prompt as pale romance, but it could be read as a flushed relationship, too.

You know what it’s like to lose part of yourself. To wake up different.

He doesn't even notice you. Head cradled against his knees, he’s busy sniffling and wiping at the fluid leaking from his eyes. You move forward, intending to comfort him. Instead, you trip over your own feet.

“Fuck! Fuck stupid hate dubazz graglel…”

His head jerks up, and the air buzzes with psionics.

“Who’s there?” he asks, looking straight at you and not seeing.

You try and find the words to tell him, but you aren’t done swearing yet. You remember a time when you could control what came out of your mouth. Now, it feels like your mouth is a separate entity that’s always scheming against you.

“Okay, so I guess I can rule out ‘anyone intelligent’ as an answer,” he responds when you can’t form a coherent sentence.

“Thcrew you, azzhoel!” you yell, unable to control the swell of anger.

He chuckles and moves forward, sweeping his hands in front of him to feel the way. You lean back, not wanting physical contact. The motion makes you loose balance, and you fall onto the floor.

“Feck balnce so stooped cant even damn-”

“Wow, your vocabulary is impressive. Don’t give yourself an aneurysm, McCool.”

His hands find your head, and he pats around until he finds the general location of your arm. He hauls you up.

“So are you gonna tell me your name some time today, or do I have to guess?”

You can’t focus on words. His hand is still on your arm. It’s not making you feel bad. Usually other people touching you makes you feel bad.

“I know you can talk,” he spoke up. “You were using some colorful language just a few moments ago.”

“I’m- I name is.." 

You tap his chest, where your sign is on his shirt. It’s splotched with blood, but you can still recognize it.

“There. You. Me." 

He cocks his head. He still doesn’t get it. He’s supposed to be so smart, with his psionics and his coordination and his brain that works right. No. He’s stupid. Just a dumb kid. Like you. 

Sighing in exasperation, you take his hand and press it against your horns. Brow furrowing, he feels the dual spikes, short, sharp, just like his. His mouth forms an ‘o.’ 

“Do I know you?” he asks. You shrug. Confusing question. Maybe. Sort of. Another lifetime. Not the same. Nothing’s the same.

He trails his hands over your horns. It’s nice. Not the same way Latula’s hands are nice, more warm and slow, less passion more curiosity. You close your eyes. Too hard to focus on seeing and feeling at the same time. No sight. Just his hands, working their way down your horns to feel your hair. Down more, searching for your face. Fingers brush the scars on your temple, and you flinch. His hands stop, taking in the Braille of your damaged brain.

“Don’t,” you say, not sure what you think he is going to do, only knowing that your brain is dangerous. It’s broken. Just like his eyes, hollow holes staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking his hands away from the scar. “I guess I shouldn’t have, you know…made fun of you.”

You snort, poking at the pits on his face.

“Im nodda only one broken heer,” you joke, and he slaps your hand away.

“Hey, stop,” he growls. “Don’t put your grubby fingers in there. Who knows where they’ve been?”

You know, and it makes you cackle at the thought. He shakes his head like he thinks you’re crazy.

 “You still haven’t told me your name,” he says. “I’m Sollux, by the way.”

It’s been a few minutes since the fall, and your brain has calmed down a bit. You can remember your name again.

“Mituna. Am me.”

“Okay, Mituna. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

You nod. It is nice. Being with him is nice. He reminds you of you, of pieces of yourself you lost so long ago. Gently, you take his hand, press it against yours palm-to-palm. Feel his warm, thin hand against your own. Yours is bigger. He is still growing. You stopped growing a long time ago, when you died.

He isn’t dead. He can still grow. That thought makes you happy.

Sollux Captor is waking. He is going to wake up, and he is going to be different. You remember that, waking up and your body not belonging to you anymore, strange and uncooperative. It was hard. You survived. He is part you; he will survive this waking too.

You tap his forehead.

“Waek up, fuckt face.”

He cocks his head in confusion, not aware he has been dreaming at all. But he is starting to feel it, the tug of reality pulling him back.

“Wait, what? But…so are you real, or just my imagination?”

You laugh, and butt your head against his.

“Ow! The fuck was that for?”

“See? Fukking rell nough?”

He gets it, a dry smile twisting one corner of his mouth.  

“Okay. Well, I guess if you’re real…then I’ll find you again, Mituna.”

You smile, feeling his hand fade out of your own as he wakes up. You want him to stay, to feel his warmth, but it’s okay if he goes, you guess. He still has a life. He can go, grow up. You’ll wait. You have all of eternity to find him again.

To find those other pieces of yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> Why aren't there more fics written from Mituna's perspective? Why?
> 
> I was originally going to write this from Sollux's perspective, but Mituna was too interesting to pass up.(Not that Sollux isn't interesting, I've just already written some stuff from his perspective)


End file.
